Parting Gifts
by Zennith6
Summary: Voldemort lost more than his body that night in Godric's Hollow. Harry was given more than a scar. As Harry grows up trying to fill the shoes and expectations that come with being the Boy Who Lived, Severus Snape tries to reconcile his past and present.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

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"_Alohamora!_"

There was a soft click, a smile, and a cautious step through the newly unlocked door.

There was precious little light – the room was dark and only a few stray beams were able to slip through the tightly drawn shades. Albus Dumbledore stood with his wand in hand, his back flush against the doorway he'd just slipped through. The wizened wizard quickly surveyed the scene before him – his keen eyes sifting through the darkness. The room was sparsely furnished, with little comfort. There was a small, worn down desk in the corner of the room – several sheets of parchment were strewn across its surface. The bed in the opposite corner looked hardly large enough for a child, let alone a fully grown adult. The single sheet lining the bed frame was old and threadbare – hardly sufficient for the cold of this time of year. Albus sighed, shook his head, and lowered his wand.

The room was empty. His quarry was missing.

He took a single step forward, and then another, looking for a sign or a clue that might help him discern where the man had gone, where he had run to. He'd been searching on and off again for the better part of a year, and he'd thought he might have finally found him. Instead, he'd found what looked like a dead end.

To the rest of the world the man he was searching for was a dead and had been dead for the better part of a decade. The wizarding world had rejoiced, celebrated their young hero, and had then moved on to their new issues and new enemies and new problems.

Albus Dumbledore was the only one who knew the truth. He carefully lifted the several sheets of parchment from the stained and tainted desk and inspected them closely. The same scrawl adorned each and every page.

_Harry Potter, Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whining_

He crumpled the pages in disgust. Harry Potter was being watched, of course, and there had been no sign of any disturbances save for those originating from the boy's wretched Aunt and Uncle. These pages, though, were still a cause for concern because somehow, the Potter address had been compromised.

He set the papers back on the desk and withdrew his wand almost daintily before tapping the pages. He grimaced slightly and turned back towards the door as the pages quickly went up in smoke. He waved his wand once more and a slight wisp of silvery material appeared before him.

"Double the watch on Number 4."

The gruff words were swallowed by the mist and carried quickly to those atop the chain of command in the Order. The old man pocketed his wand once more and placed his hand against the frame of the old oak door. He closed his eyes and felt for any trace of residue or unwanted magical influence but found none. The information was as he expected supported his strengthening hypothesis. He pushed lightly against the knob and the door swung slowly open. He inspected the lock and concluded that the door had previously been locked by mere muggle means and not by magic at all.

He stepped out into the hallway and could not help but notice the decrepit carpeting and faded wallpaper. The muggle at the entrance desk to the old inn had looked haggard to the extreme and Albus could not help but feel pity for the man. Times were tough everywhere, it seemed. Dumbledore raised his hand and swept it out before him. The stains on the floor began slipping away from the carpet as the wallpaper seemed to swiftly find its old shine. Within seconds the hallway seemed almost new again.

Albus smiled slightly and then vanished with a pop.

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.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.

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Severus Snape was not feeling well, not well at all. He'd spent the better part of the evening grading the horrific results of the first year's exams and was hardly in a forgiving sort of mood.

"That's a T for you, Miss Tonks. A Bezoar is NOT found in the stomach of a lamb, or in the 'rectums' of your classmates".

"I don't know, Severus. I think it deserves at least an Acceptable for creativity alone."

Snape turned in his chair and faced the Headmaster's face in the fireplace. "Is there something you want? I find myself a bit occupied this evening."

"Yes, Severus," Dumbledore said softly, the trace of a smile sliding from his face, "I've stumbled across something that we need to discuss. In person. Please come to my office."

Snape sighed. "Now?"

"Now." Dumbledore's tone allowed for no argument.

The Potions Master nodded, "I'll be there in a moment."

Without another word the headmaster's face vanished from the fireplace.

Snape set aside the failing exam and stood to grab his cloak. He could have simply stepped into the fireplace, but on this particular evening he favored a trip through the hallways on foot. Perhaps he would even find an errant student out of bounds along the way.

The chill of the night's air caused him to pull his cloak tightly around his shoulders as he prowled up from the dungeons towards the Headmaster's tower. It was nearly midwinter, and students would soon be heading home for the holidays. In truth, this was Severus Snape's favorite time of the year. During the summer there was much expected of him – specifically from Dumbledore. He was always off on one assignment or another, and when those little 'projects' were finished he was forced to prepare his curriculum for the upcoming year. The winter break was generally the only time he had to work on his own experiments outside of the very late evenings or very early mornings during the school year.

As he traversed the hallways he could not help but feel a strange touch of nostalgia come over him. He'd spent more years at Hogwarts than he had away from it, but still he could not put aside occasional moments such as this one – moments of sadness, moments of longing. He had expected himself to grow calluses given the time and the multitude of years, but still the memories of times gone by could not be shaken in their entirety.

As he shook his head to chase away the cobwebs he found himself at the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Cotton Candy," Snape spoke derisively and the Gargoyle jumped aside. He shook his head as he started up the stairs. The Headmaster's penchant for muggle candies was something he knew he'd never understand. Dumbledore had presented him with a hand full of this 'Cotton Candy' roughly a month before, and frankly Severus couldn't see the appeal. The stuff was disgusting.

Before he could knock he heard Dumbledore's voice bidding him to enter. As he swept into the room, he could not help but note that the room was quite a bit messier than usual – books were left open atop the Headmaster's desk, papers were strewn everywhere.

"Care for a Lemon Drop, Severus?"

Snape took a seat across from Dumbledore, who was seated at the desk with his hands folded in a way that made the old man seem positively serene, despite the mess about him.

"No thank you."

"Pity," Dumbledore said, "they really are quite something."

Snape shook his head. "Your new fascination, Albus?"

The old man laughed aloud, "One always needs some variation in life."

The Potions Master sighed loudly and shifted in his seat. There was something always vaguely unsettling about sitting across from the Headmaster despite the fact that he'd done it many times before. Something about the man made it seem as if he could see right through you. Severus did not enjoy being seen through.

"I'm sure you are curious about the cause for this late meeting."

Snape nodded. "Indeed."

Dumbledore stroked his long beard slowly. "I had a rather interesting experience this evening. I would like your input on the matter."

Severus nodded once again, and Dumbledore continued on. "I assume you got my message."

"I did. It is done."

Dumbledore smiled. "Good. It is for the best, although at the moment I do not believe that there is a real threat."

Snape furrowed his brow. "And what is this potential or false threat?"

"Severus, this might come as a shock to you. But you need to know, and I need your help."

"I would prefer it, Albus, if you would quit stalling and just come out with it."

The wizened headmaster nodded slowly. "Certainly, Severus. I have learned without a doubt that Tom Riddle is not gone as the world has imagined. Indeed, the man is quite certainly still alive."

A look of pure terror flashed across the Potions Master's face as he stood up. "The Dark Lord. The Dark Lord is still alive?"

Dumbledore sat still. "Yes and no."

"What does that mean?" Snape growled in frustration as the Headmaster began to smile. "This is hardly a laughing matter, Albus."

"Too true, too true. The Dark Lord is no more, Severus. You do not need to worry. Tom Riddle, however, is indeed still out there. He is on the run."

Snape rubbed his eyes. "I do not understand."

"It seems," Dumbledore started, "that Tom Riddle did not lose his life in his attempt on the Potters as we all thought. He lost something much, much worse.

"And what was that, Albus?"

Dumbledore smiled a cold smile. "He lost his magic, Severus. Tom Riddle is now, in my estimation, no more magical than your father or my brother's pet goat. And I would like it very much, my friend, if you would help me catch him."

Snape could only nod.

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.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.

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"How many did you make, Tom?"

He was trapped. Cornered. Caged. The net had tightened leaving him no place to run. And standing before him now was none other than his greatest adversary. His one-time equal.

And he was defenseless.

It was not the first moment in which Tom Riddle wished he had the capacity to take his own life, and it would not be the last.

"I will ask you again," the venerable Headmaster said, "how many did you make?"

Riddle shook his head, eyes desperate. "I don't know what you're talking about, Albus."

The old man had a weary look about him. As Tom looked in to the man's eyes he could find nothing but sadness, contempt, and pity. He had never hated the man more than he did in that moment.

"Let us not play games – not at this late hour. Your time is up, your era over. You have very little left to do but talk to me."

Riddle took a step back and felt his hands brush against the rough stone of the monastery walls. His long and tattered gray hair fell and framed his gaunt and aging face. His skin was pulled tight against his cheekbones, it was clear the man had been living precious little food. He'd never planned on being captured – that was something that had never crossed his mind, not even once. He hadn't even known that anyone was looking for him. Riddle swore out loud, cursing himself for not anticipating the Dumbledore's obsession. After all, he was the old man's greatest mistake.

"I could force you to speak, Tom. We both know this. Let us attempt to be civil for a change."

Rage erupted from the former Dark Lord's chest and he spat at the man's face. Dumbledore proceeded to wave his wand almost lazily and words began to tumble unbidden from Tom Riddle's lips.

"I was intending to make seven."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "And how many did you make successfully?"

Try as he might, Riddle could not stop himself from speaking. "Five. Five pieces including the one still left in this body.

"And that is how you survived."

Riddle nodded. "Yes."

Dumbledore thought for a moment. "Do you know where Harry Potter lives?"

He nodded once more. "Yes."

"How did you learn this information?"

The man shrugged. "Your man – Fletcher, I believe – is a complete fool."

"And were you planning on returning to attack Harry Potter?"

Riddle shook his head. "A pipe dream. Nothing more."

Albus waved his wand once more and Tom fell back against the wall and slid to the floor, his voice returned to his control.

"Just end it." Riddle said softly, his voice cracking.

Albus furrowed his brow. "Excuse me?"

Riddle clenched his jaw, a combination of anger, frustration, and desperation coursing through his veins. "You know what I said. Just end it. Kill me."

"And deprive you of your quite fitting punishment?" Dumbledore shook his head, "I think not."

Riddle paused for a moment before speaking again. "Does it gall you, Professor?"

Albus frowned. "I don't know what you mean."

"Does it make you furious to know that a little boy accomplished what you could not? Does it shame you to know that without Potter, you would have been helpless to protect all the people you love, all the people you care about?"

Dumbledore did not respond. Instead he turned to the door. "Severus, you may enter."

Riddle's eyes widened. "I should have known he'd return to you, Albus. You always were too forgiving by far."

Snape grimaced. "I was always his. Always."

Dumbledore took a step towards his Potions Master and put a hand on his shoulder. "And I appreciate all that you did."

Tom Riddle shook his head and clenched his fists almost unconsciously. "Albus, do you know the things this man has done? Do you know the muggles he tortured, the women he raped, the men he killed?"

Snape raised his wand and pointed it at the haggard man sitting at the base of the wall. "You are truly pathetic."

"Do it." Riddle's words were soft but striking. "Do it. You know you want to. Kill me, Snape. If you have the courage."

Severus Snape waved his wand and a jet of light struck the frail man directly in the chest. He slumped forwards. Snape lowered his wand. He was breathing heavily, and sweat could be seen on the tip of his brow.

Albus clasped Snape's shoulder. "Thank you, my friend." Severus could not help but look away.

Dumbledore stepped forward and clutched what was left of Tom Riddle. He nodded at Snape and the two of them vanished from the stone chamber.

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.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.

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NOTE: So, this is just the prologue, but I'm glad you've read this much! This is my first story in over a year and a half (I think) and I'm excited to work on it. Should be lots of fun, and hopefully you'll keep reading as the story keeps being written! I know this was short, but chapters in the future should be at least twice as long.


	2. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE**

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A group of Third Years filed quickly from the Defense classroom. The group was rowdy and students were shoving each other aside to get to great hall. Rumors were flying, and nobody wanted to be out of the loop. Before the last two in line could make it through the door, a voice called to them from inside the classroom.

"A moment, Harry, if you would."

Harry Potter stopped at the entrance way and looked at his best friend, Ron Weasley. Ron shrugged his shoulders. The two of them turned back to face their professor, who continued speaking.

"Yes, Ron, you ought to stay as well. I would like to speak to the both of you, actually."

The boys nodded and took the two proffered chairs in front of the professor's desk. Across from them sat Remus Lupin, a rather perplexed look upon his usually friendly features.

Harry frowned. "Is there a problem, professor?"

Lupin shook his head. "Not at all, Harry. I just wanted to speak to the two of you about the other night."

Ron spoke up quickly. "It wasn't your fault, professor. We don't blame you in the slightest."

The defense professor sighed. "Never the less, I am completely at fault. It is inexcusable. I should have managed my transformations more maturely, more effectively. I was unable to do so. "

Harry's frown deepened. "Professor, we've never had a defense professor as good as you – you can't let this stop you – we need you here."

Remus Lupin sighed and sat back in his chair. In that moment his face looked ten years older than it had mere seconds before. "I have already tendered my resignation, Harry. I am truly sorry. But that is not what I wanted to speak with the two of you about. In fact, I wanted to thank you."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Thank us?"

"Is it official, then?" Ron asked.

Lupin shook his head. "Not yet, but it should be soon. Dumbledore's been speaking on and off with the Minister since that evening. It has taken some time, but it does seem that Cornelius is beginning to see reason."

Harry and Ron exchanged a look. "Does that mean – does that mean that Sirius might actually be pardoned?"

"Indeed – upon viewing memories from that evening in Albus' pensieve, Cornelius agreed to give Sirius a fair trial. Sirius agreed to come in as long as he remained under Albus' protection, which the Headmaster also insisted upon. No aurors were involved, and Fudge came away from the meeting satisfied."

Harry fidgeted in his seat. "Sir, when you say that Cornelius viewed memories – does that include… well, does that include what happened with Snape?"

The professor's face almost broke into a smile. "No, Harry. Nobody but us shall know that two third year students managed to disarm our venerable Potions Master."

Ron chuckled, and Harry managed a smile himself.

Lupin spoke up again. "I am also sorry, Harry, that this year hasn't been as quiet as we might have hoped after last year's incident in the Chamber. Professor Dumbledore and I did our best, but again we did not do right by you."

Harry shook his head. "In truth, sir, I couldn't be happier. I have a godfather." Harry found himself smiling. "I have a godfather, and he's going to be free!"

Ron's smile faded as he looked from Harry to his professor. "What about Pettigrew. Has anyone found him?"

Lupin's sandy features faded as well. "Unfortunately not. There has been no sign of him."

As Ron and Harry shared another look, Remus Lupin could not help but muse once again on the differences between Harry and his father. James had always been rash, but of these two boys Ron was the more hot-headed by far. Harry had proven himself of a level disposition and a sensible demeanor. It really was a testament to Lily's influence on the boy. Or perhaps the difficulty of his upbringing had something to do with it. Either way, Remus could not help but think in that moment about how proud Harry's parents would have been.

"Professor?"

Ronald's voice interrupted the man's musing. "Yes, Ron?"

"Was there anything else?"

Lupin shook his head. "No, boys. That is all. I'm certain that Professor Dumbledore will keep you up to date with events as they relate to you."

Harry looked up at him. "Are you staying for the feast?"

Remus shook his head. "Alas, I must be going. But I will see you often, Harry. Of that you need not worry."

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.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.

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Harry and Ron walked from the classroom together and began on their way towards the Great Hall. As they walked, Ron could not help but notice that his friend was unusually quiet, unusually somber.

"Everything okay, Harry?"

The raven haired boy nodded. "Everything's fine."

Ron furrowed his brow. "You should be excited."

Harry nodded again. "I am. I am excited."

"Mate, you certainly don't sound excited."

Harry stopped as Ron took several more steps forward. Noticing this, the red-head turned to face his friend.

"I'm just worried, Ron."

Ron nodded. "I know, I get it. I'd be worried about Sirius too."

Harry shook his head, his face tightly drawn. "It isn't just about him – although that's part of it. It's more about the fact that Pettigrew is still out there, nobody knows where he is. Oh, also, we attacked Snape. A professor. How are we not spending the whole summer in detention? I'm dreading our last class with him. He's going to kill us, you know that, right?"

Ron laughed. "Dumbledore wouldn't let him."

"I mean, obviously he won't literally kill us. But just think about all the points we'll lose."

Frowning, Ron took another step towards his friend. "Since when do you care about House Points?"

Harry sighed. "I don't'. Not really."

"So what is this about?"

Harry rubbed his face and brushed his hair back behind his ears. "I just – honestly, I feel bad for him."

Ron looked at him with an unreadable expression. "For Snape? You feel bad for Snape?"

Harry nodded, but before he could say any more the two were accosted by a frizz of mottled brown hair.

"Why aren't the two of you at dinner?"

Ron looked at their classmate Hermione Granger and shrugged. "Why aren't you?"

The girl's face scrunched up in annoyance. "For your information, I had to return some things to my room."

"We were speaking with Lupin."

Hermione looked at Harry quickly. "So the rumors are true, then?"

Harry didn't say anything.

"Did the two of you really have a run in with _Sirius Black_? Were you terrified? I imagine I would have been – we haven't learned nearly enough to take on a murderer like him! I think I would have tried to run – but again that might not have worked. There's really nothing we can do, not yet anyway. How did you escape? People are saying that Professor Snape rescued you, but I wasn't certain and wanted to ask you."

Harry did not respond. Instead, he turned away from his two classmates and began walking towards the Great Hall once again, his trainers smacking loudly against the floor as he went.

Hermione looked at Ron. "Did I say something?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "You really think he wants to talk with this about everyone who stops him in the hallway? It's like last year all over again, except this time there's actually truth to the rumors. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time for dinner."

Ron turned away quickly and went to catch up with his friend. Hermione huffed and followed in their wake.

"You know that everyone is going to be talking about this tonight!" Hermione shouted after the two of them. "I just want to help!"

Harry stopped at that. "You want to help, Hermione?" he said, turning back over his shoulder to look at the girl.

She nodded.

"You really want in – you really want to know about all the things that have been happening in my life?"

The girl frowned. "I'm not asking to know everything, Harry. I don't mean to pry. I just want to help if I can."

Ron shook his head. "You could help by shutting up."

Harry put his hand out in front of Ron. "Hermione. Last year everyone thought that I was the Heir of Slytherin. Did you believe those rumors?"

She shook her head.

"Good. That's something. This year, the rumors are that Sirius escaped because he wanted revenge. Because he wanted to come to Hogwarts and kill me. Do you believe these rumors?"

Hermione shook her head again.

"Good. He didn't come here to kill me. He came here to save me. If anyone asks, if anyone is talking, that's all I want you to say. Nothing more, just those words. That Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban in order to save me and my friend. That's all you need to know. Can you do that for me?"

Hermione nodded and tried to speak, but Harry cut her off.

"That's all, Hermione. That's all."

With that, Harry and Ron turned to walk towards their evening meal, leaving behind a stunned and confused Hermione Granger.

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.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.

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The chamber was as dark and dank as Riddle remembered it. He had loved it for that back when he was a boy, but now he felt trapped by the dusk. He'd woken up with his back against the wall and his hand in chains. He knew his prison instantly. He looked around for any sign of his old pet, his old servant but could find none. The only thing he saw was an old and worn down bookcase staring at him from across the room. It hadn't been there before, that much he knew. It must have been put there. He wondered why.

As he closed his eyes for a moment he could almost imagine that he was sixteen again, a brilliant student with his power just beginning to grow. How could it be that a man with such power, such brilliance, could be reduced to this? He shook his head and tried to free himself from his living existence. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. It was luck that had allowed them to best him; it was luck that had caused his downfall.

And now he sat in chains, alone and imprisoned in his childhood sanctuary. As he tried to straighten his legs he heard the stone door sliding open. He looked up and could not help but flinch as he saw Dumbledore standing here. The man did not belong in a place like this – his mere presence violated the sanctity of the chamber. Beyond the framed silhouette he could see the main room with its vaulted ceilings and Slytherin emblem. He longed to stand and call for his servant, but he could not even find the strength to stand.

Looking up at the white bearded wizard, he did manage to find his voice.

"You brought me to Hogwarts. Why did you bring me to Hogwarts?"

Dumbledore took several steps in and allowed the stone door to close behind him. Riddle could not help but notice that the old man did not even have his wand drawn. It still disheartened him to remember that he was no longer a threat.

"I've decided it is high time to put you to use."

Riddle closed his eyes. "And what do you think would prompt me to do anything for you? You kept me locked away for years in that godforsaken place."

Dumbledore almost smiled. "But now I've brought you back to Hogwarts. The only place you ever called home."

"It's all just a mockery now," Riddle growled.

Dumbledore took a step towards the dusty bookshelf. "Oh, I know, Tom. It most certainly is."

Tom started to chuckle and almost choked. "I'm stunned you'd allow me back here, even now."

Albus gazed down at the man over the top of his half-moon glasses. "I need not remind you, Tom, that at the moment you are less of a danger than the meanest first year, than the oldest house elf. You are of literally no threat to my school or my students."

Tom Riddle shook his head. "Perhaps, Dumbledore. The school governors would still have your head if they knew."

"They might try. But then again, how would they ever know? Nobody knows you are alive, Tom. Not even one of your old followers. Only Severus and I know the truth."

The former Dark Lord closed his eyes and sighed wearily. "What is it you want from me, Dumbledore?"

The Headmaster did not answer; instead he turned and began thumbing through the books on the out of place bookshelf.

Riddle spoke again, "I never would have expected you to be capable of torture, Albus. These last few years have really altered my opinion of you. Have I told you that?"

Dumbledore shook his head by way of response and kept searching through the shelves.

"You've turned sadistic in your old age. A surprising turn of events, to be sure."

Albus finally let out a soft chuckle and turned to face his adversary. In his hands he held a thick old tome that had clearly seen better days. He brought it to Riddle and set it at his feet. Tom looked up at Dumbledore.

"And what is this?"

"You are going to help me with a personal project," Albus replied simply.

Riddle almost snorted. "And what on earth makes you think I would help you?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Simple, Tom. If you don't, you'll remain here in chains. Indefinitely."

Tom shrugged. "I don't see how that would be any different than the past several years."

The aged Headmaster stood and turned away. He took a step towards the door and then paused.

"How many people know of this chamber's true existence, Tom?"

Riddle shrugged. "I know of the entrance. I truly don't even know how you found it, Dumbledore."

Dumbledore responded, still facing towards the door. "I know of this chamber. Harry Potter knows of this chamber. Harry's friend Ronald Weasley knows of this chamber. It is the three of us and you.

I would like you to know, Tom, that when I say that you will remain here indefinitely, I mean it. If you refuse me now, I will leave and never come back. I will seal this chamber behind me, and neither Harry nor young Ronald will come looking. You will stay chained to the ground with only that troth of water to sustain you for the rest of your life. And since you went and created five different Horcruxes… well, I don't personally want to even imagine what such an existence might be like."

Riddle was silent.

Dumbledore spoke again. "I will give you one night to think on it, Tom. Tomorrow when I return you will inform me of your decision, and we will continue from there."

Riddle still did not speak. Albus strode towards the door and opened it with a casual wave of his wand. As he stepped over the threshold, he turned back to look at the slumped figure of the former Dark Lord.

"Oh, and one more thing. I thought you might like to know that young Harry Potter disposed of your basilisk just last year. In his second year in school. He slew the beast with the help of my friend Fawkes and Gryffindor's Sword. Really the stuff of legend, to tell you the truth. I just thought you ought to know."

Riddle closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the stony wall to which he was chained. Dumbledore strode from the chamber and allowed the heavy stone door to slam behind him.

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.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.

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_The baby's cry could still be heard. A tight smile flickered across the Dark Lord's face as he swept past the discarded body on the floor. As he approached he could hear the red-haired woman's sobs of distress. He wrinkled his nose and tightened his grip on his wand. He would have certainly enjoyed ending the poor woman's life, but he had promised Severus that she would have a chance to stand down. _

_He flicked his wand and the door to the room splintered inwards. The woman flung herself in front of the child, her arms outstretched. _

_The Dark Lord spoke in chilling tones, "Stand aside, silly girl."_

_She shook her head and continued to hold her arms outstretched. _

_Voldemort snarled, "Stand aside. I will not repeat myself." _

_The woman refused once more. Casually, almost lazily, the hooded man flicked his wand and a jet of wicked green light struck the woman in the chest. A swell of triumph flushed through the man. His victory was near complete. He stepped towards the child and gave a twisted smile. _

"_Good-bye, Harry Potter."_

_There was a high pitched cackle, a jet of green light, and then it all went black. _

Harry Potter gasped and sat up in his bed. There was sweat on his brow and his breathing was labored and heavy. He turned to look at the clock on his side table and groaned at what he saw.

"Four in the morning," he whispered to himself. He could not help but shake his head in frustration. He'd had a hard enough time getting to sleep in the first place – being plagued by dreams and visions was not exactly thrilling, to say the least.

"You okay, Harry?"

Harry turned his head to look at Ron, who was sitting up in his bed with a concerned look on his face.

He nodded, "I'm fine. Just a dream."

"Another one – like last year?"

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he lay back on the bed, hands behind his head.

"You should tell someone," Ron said softly.

He shook his head. "Who would I tell?"

Ron rubbed his face and shrugged. "Dumbledore, probably."

"No. I've gone to him about enough. I just don't really want to tell anyone."

"There's nothing wrong, Harry. It isn't like you've done anything to be ashamed of," Ron replied.

Harry shot his friend a look and spoke in low, rough tones, "You think there's nothing wrong with having these… these visions?"

"Dumbledore could help."

"Maybe, maybe not. Either way, it hasn't exactly been a real problem up to this point. If it weren't for these visions we might not have found your sister at all!"

Ron shushed Harry and looked quickly around the dormitory. "Keep it down, Harry. No need to wake everyone else up also."

Harry spoke again, this time more quietly, "I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated."

"I know, Harry, I know. It helped us once – but there's no reason you should have to live with it, no reason you should have to wake up in the middle of the night."

Harry sighed audibly and didn't answer. Ron lay back on his bed as well and looked up at the ceiling with a blank look upon his face. The two remained there, in silence with their eyes wide open, for several minutes. All traces of sleep had been wiped from Harry's eyes, he was wide awake. Ron, noticing this, sat up and threw his legs over the side of his bed.

"Grab the cloak, Harry."

Harry turned to look at Ron, but did not move otherwise. "Why? Where would we go?"

Ron shrugged.

"Seems like you haven't quite thought this through," Harry said.

"Who cares, Harry? Let's just go. What's the point of having an invisibility cloak if you aren't going to ever use it? We're leaving school tomorrow, what are they going to do, give us detention?"

Harry frowned. "They'll take away house points, probably. If not this year, they'll make us start next year in negative numbers."

Ron shook his head and stood. "You don't care about house points, Harry. We've been over that before."

A smile made its way upon the black-haired boy's face. "True enough, Ron. Have you thought of a place to go? Maybe the library or something?"

Ron snorted as quietly as he could. "The library? I hate the place in the daylight; I'm not going to go there now."

Harry slipped from the bed and went to his trunk. Ron smiled in satisfaction and stepped towards the door. Harry grasped the silvery fabric between his fingers and stood up straight. The two boys stepped from their dormitory and started down the stairs. Suddenly, Harry stopped.

"The Chamber," Harry said with certainty.

Ron stopped quickly and looked at Harry with concern etched on his young face. "Why?"

Harry frowned, and spoke quickly, "I don't know. I just know that's where I want to go."

Ron put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I really don't know if that's a good idea."

Harry walked towards the portrait. "It's where I'm going, and I would like it if you came with me. But either way, that's where I'm headed."

Ron crossed quickly to his friend. "If you insist, we can. But you don't know what's down there, it might not be safe."

Harry almost smirked. "It's probably safer now than it was when it had a Basilisk in it."

Ron had to smile and concede the point. Harry flung the cloak over the both of them and the two friends vanished from the Gryffindor common room.

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.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.O.

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Riddle was past trying to guess the time. It couldn't have been more than a day since Dumbledore had been threatening him, otherwise he'd have come back to finish the deed one way or another. The hours dragged on and the beaten man could not help but shake his head in disgust and despair. He would have expected a single day's wait to be nothing given his solitary confinement for the past four years, but somehow waiting for Dumbledore to return this time was more stressful and difficult than ever before.

Of course he was furious. Of course he was angry. Of course he couldn't bear the thought of helping his nemesis, whatever the project might be. But the notion of remaining alone forever in this chamber that mocked his mere existence… well, that would be torture also.

Rage coursed through his veins as he considered his options. In years past he would have laughed at this situation and freed himself without a second thought. Those days were gone, though. He retained no real hope of gaining back what he had lost.

In the aftermath of his attempt on Harry Potter he'd been desperate to find something that could restore him. He went through all of his journals, all of his resources. He knew he couldn't reveal his existence to his followers – they'd have turned their backs at best, killed him at worst. He spent three years in that way, searching manically for a cure. But there was none.

Riddle was broken from his reverie by the heavy stone door sliding open. Dumbledore strode in to the room, no hint of a care or worry behind those half-moon spectacles. In his hands he held that same book. It was worn, aged, and incredibly thick. The headmaster waved his wand and conjured a plush orange chair from nothing. Tom Riddle could not help but snarl at this casual and absurd use of magic.

Dumbledore sat. "Have you thought everything over?"

The prisoner sighed, "You know what my response is going to be, Dumbledore."

Albus smiled serenely, "Do I, Tom?"

Riddle shook his head in frustration. "You've already humiliated me, old man. Do you really need to play games?"

Dumbledore held the book outstretched. Riddle took it reluctantly and looked down at the text he now held in his cuffed hands. There was no title. Riddle looked up at Dumbledore

"What is this?" he asked reluctantly.

The wizened old wizard sat back in his plush armchair that could not have been more out of place in the dark and dusky chamber.

He paused for a moment, and then said, "This is the first of several tomes I've acquired ruminating on a single subject."

Riddle did not reply. Instead, he opened the book with caution and flipped through the first few pages. After a few moments, Tom shut the book and looked up at Dumbledore with menace in his eyes and venom on his tongue.

"Are you still mocking me, Dumbledore? Are you still throwing this in my face?"

Albus' face remained passive and he said, "Not at all. The subject is one that I would like to know more about for rather obvious reasons. You seem like the perfect person to assist me in my research. It is my feeling that you might have a sort of unique… insight that other potential collaborators would lack."

Riddle clenched his fists. "I wonder if you realize how much I would love to tear you limb from limb, Dumbledore."

The old man didn't bat an eyelash. Instead, he chuckled, "Oh, I know, Tom. And I find that I am not above enjoying your anger. But you will help me. You've already decided. We both know that the alternative would be unbearable."

Riddle ground his teeth and looked at the ground, but did not respond.

Dumbledore stood. "I'll return two nights form now, Tom. I will expect you to have finished the text by that time – and I will also expect you to have some fascinating insights for me."

"I'm not your student," Tom snarled.

"Oh Tom," Dumbledore sighed as he vanished his chair with a simple wave of his wand, "you never stopped being my student."

With that, Albus turned and walked through the doorway with a serene smile on his face.

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A/N: That's chapter one! Thanks so much for reading, I love hearing everyone's feedback, so if you have thoughts please absolutely drop me a review!


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